A WHITER SHADE OF PALE

No, I'm not referring to the 1967 hit song by the British band Procol Harum, but the blanket of grayness that enveloped us throughout the day. Sure, the sun rose, but it hid behind the overcast, hazy skies all day. The temperature never rose above 27 degrees leaving ice on the roadways, and the locals, seemingly to us, unfamiliar with navigating in these conditions, drove cautiously and well below the speed limit. The visions of those less lucky, spilled on their sides upon the medians, a haunting reminder of what would befall them, if they did not drive with care.

At a truck stop at the Texas/Oklahoma border, we were approached by two drivers wondering from which direction we had come. When told we had come from the west, they anxiously asked us how the road conditions were. Having done battle in Canada, the frigid cold of North Dakota and Minnesota, and not forgetting to give Wyoming it's dues, we both told them we didn't think it was so bad. Sure, there were a few "oops" moments we had seen along side the roadways, but to us, it seemed okay to drive in. The one driver mentioned that, yes, he had driven before in Washington State, but this was "different", after all it was Texas. Not wanting to argue the point, we both bid him a safe journey and proceeded inside to get our morning coffee.

We ventured on making a stop for a lunch break in Oklahoma City, and then headed towards the Arkansas border. The sun continued to hide behind the grayness, but it did warm to the mid 30's, and the ice began to fall from our truck. We pulled into the Petro Truck Stop in Little Rock thankful to have had yet another safe journey and have a tale to tell. Taking a little creative license with the chorus of the song, I imagine there were stories told this evening by many drivers of their adventures out on the roads.

And so it was that later

As the trucker told his tale

That her face, at first just ghostly,

Turned a whiter shade of pale